Huntington Quarters was an elite country club that Idas father paid for an family membership at. Filled with rich snobs and petty waiters, it could be snooty and over the top at times but Ida loved practicing tennis in the courts.
Clad in her a white polo and white pleaded tennis skirt, she strutted into the large air conditioned room that stretched far in length and had tennis nets standing midway across the room.
People were already hitting balls back and forth in games.
Ida walked to the nearest net and dumped her duffel bag onto her side of the court. She shuffled out her racket and package of balls and sat down on the bench, bouncing a ball on the floor and back in her palm as she waited for her trainer.
"Bonjour!" David's voice shot out after a couple of minutes.
Idas head shot up in the direction of her trainer.
David was a middle aged French man. His life was devoted in the lifestyle of tennis. He used to be a professional player for the tennis league until he turned thirty and decided it was time to retire. He moved to America and began coaching others to play tennis.
"Good afternoon, David." Ida greeted with a genuine smile.
"Why so fake?" He asked with a frown, poking at her dimples. He could always read when her smiles were fake and fraud.
She groaned, "Would you stop, ya ape!" She pushed his fingers away.
He laughed dryly, "You Americans have da worst humor. Apes." He laughed more prominently. "Now, so tell, what's got your panties bundled up?" He furrowed his brows, placing an obnoxious hand on his hip.
Ida sighed, "Last time I checked, you were my tennis player. Not my therapist."
"With that attitude, you might want to think of getting one." He added, grasping the tennis ball and backing up to the other side of the net. "I'll start." He said and sprung up the ball.
**
With her duffle bag hanging loosely from her shoulder, she pranced across the main hallway of the country club, heading towards the girls locker room. She needed a shower and fast. Because of her snippy attitude, David ran her dry in energy and wet in sweat. They played until they stopped keeping count of score. It was tiring but also good therapy to loosen up the nerves bundled up because of a certain guy being a total complicated messy thing.
Idas grip on her duffle bag tightened at the mere thought of Oliver. And then she started to think of his face. Then his smile. His eyes. Those dark eyes that held so much emotion. And his laugh when his head tilted back—
A rough shove sent Ida diving into the wall.
"Whoa!" She whimpered, rubbing her side as she tried to recover.
"Shit! I'm sorry..I—Ida?"
Oh, god. Ida knew that voice. Almost too well.
Swiveling her head around, she tried to contain her scowl, "What are you doing here, Caspian?" She asked, folding her arms over herself.
He grinned, that shocked Ida so much that she winced.
"I came for a swim, obviously." He said like she should've known his schedule.
"Oh."
"How have you been?" He asked.
She winced again, "Fine." He seemed to believe the lie.
